I walked with struggle down the corridor listening to the echoing sounds of chaos. Using my cane to support my body as well as my spirit. The walls dotted here and there with images of those lost and not yet found. Forlorn messages that bore little hope of the distant reunification of family and friend. I had walked this corridor before and had yet to find what I sought. Would this time be different? I like all who came before me and those that would come after hoped that this time would be the time. I would save a life and of one in need and in so saving save a part of me that was lost and hoping to be found again as well. The guards to this prison washing away the waste, the keeping at bay the fears and desperation that must have been in the eyes of each one held here. Those sad, soulful eyes. Even in the toughest of these convicts the look could melt the most calloused of heart. Soften even the harshest of “There’s not much left for them, who would take them and rehabilitate them back into society”.  I made the turn to stare at the bars. The rows of cells, and the rising and falling sounds of the prisoners behind them.

Not three cages in what I saw startled me. Underfed, skin and bones, and those sad, sad, eyes. She looked up and smiled in her own way. If a smile you can call it. Her tail wagged and those eyes had me. I was always amazed at what these poor strays to do to me when I came to visit the pound. Each bark and whelp was distinct yet they all blended to form the chaotic cacophony that embraced each hopeful visitor. Each tail wagged with its own unique and personal style. And the coats, some matted, with burs and foxtails, others smooth yet silted with dirt from a last free night in the out skirting field. Be it bark, whine or soulful stare, the hounds of the pound had their say in this at the least. Here I am , love me

or not, but you wont forget me.

Forget my pooch in cell number 3? I don’t think so. She was the one. Not barking…..not whining…..just sitting up close to the edge of the bars that separated us. With a half expectant half reserved look in her eyes. Big and brown. Dark and thoughtful and hopeful all at once.

Are you here for me?

             I had completely forgotten that I written this about my best friend and dearest dog Dory. Isn’t it amazing that through all the trials and tribulations of AIDS that the one constant has been my dog. If anyone is ever feeling lonely and left out and without companionship. I highly recommend visiting your local pound and rescue a dog or cat in need. You never know, it may be you that ends up being rescued.     Peace to all, your friend, Scott  …. And Dory too!